"We cannot stop the winter
or summer from coming. We
cannot stop the spring or fall or
make them other than they are.
They are gifts from the universe
we cannot refuse. But we can
choose what we will contribute to
life when each arrives."
Gary Zukhav
I must confess, I have very mixed feelings when I decide to ride a century in December, a month when I normally did a minimum of two centuries just a few years ago: my Christmas breakfast century whose route varied and Bethlehem whose route did not vary. I was younger then, and stronger. I had a pretty close knit group that would always attend. But it is time to go on. Even past time. I grow weak. A weather and route weenie. And it is not supposed to be so very cold today and the wind is not supposed to be so very wild. So out the door I go praying that the weather does not overly beat me up. I know I will hurt by the end. That is the price of admission when one has not ridden a century for a bit. But rather than paying at the door, I know I will pay at the end. I just hope it is not too ugly.
Since December of 2014, I have lost my husband, two brothers, my mother, my sister, and a nephew. If there is one thing age and loss have taught me is that time on this earth is limited and should not be wasted. Which is not to say that I don't still waste time, but it is at least conscious wastefulness, and today will not be a waste. A century ride is never a waste. And if you don't use your body the saying is true, you truly do lose it. Additionally, age makes it harder to get it back. Better just to persevere until the time comes to hang the bicycle on the wall for good. And adventure may await. One never quite knows what to expect from a long ride.
The morning is gloomy with nary a hint of sunshine though the forecasters said the sun might peek through this afternoon. I sincerely hope so for there has not been one ray for what seems like an eternity. At least the temperature has been mellow for this time of year. And at least some of my obligations and worries are coming to an end. But I long to bathe in the sun despite the fact his power has waned and lacks the heat he has in summer.
Jon agrees to ride with me so we meet at the ride start in Madison and head out both worrying a bit about how we are dressed. As it turns out, we are both fine though I am a tad overdressed. I have already asked him to agree not to linger at stops. Winter riding is not so very hard with the appropriate clothing so long as the distance is short and no stops are necessary. To me, one of the hardest things about winter century rides are the necessity of stops. Inevitably, within a short time I begin to chill. To try to prevent this today, I unzip my jacket well before stops allowing the wind to reach inside my warm outer shell and dispel some of the inevitable dampness that builds during exercise. It helps, but does not eliminate the discomfort completely. I remember one cold brevet where another rider was upset that I left the control so quickly saying he wanted to ride with me, but my body had begun shivering involuntarily to the point where if I didn't leave, I was unsure if I would be able to keep the bike upright. Just another reminder that in the end, however much I like to feel in control of things, I truly am not. Even my own body has demands and needs that I cannot control.
The route we are riding does not have a first store stop so we stop rather late at a park. The picnic table has collapsed and slants downward, but we manage to sit for a few moments and eat what we have brought. Jon has a Cliff bar I think and I have a half whole wheat p and j sandwich. It tastes wonderful and I need it, but I am glad we move on quickly. I briefly think of the times we have tarried there on this route, luxuriating in the finer weather. Today is not, however, such a day.
We have decided to eschew the traditional Subway lunch stop as it is so early in the ride and not a favorite of mine anyway. We go quite some distance further to a coffee shop we both know that also has sandwiches. But on our way we face a long, rather boring stretch that is, as normal, into the wind. Though the wind is not inordinately strong, it is strong enough that I struggle and the scenery here is repetitive, not helping anything. We have reached the point in the ride where conversation is sparse and scattered. Jon rides just a bit ahead, stopping to wait at times as I fall behind. Barren field after barren field waiting patiently for spring and planting time. Lush greenness is a vague memory. The world seems sepia colored other than the occasional yard that we pass that has Christmas decorations outside.
Decorations bring to mind that it is not too long before the children will visit for the holiday, and I set my mind yet again to determining the menu trying to plan for vegetarians and young children that are not the adventurous eaters that my daughter was when young. I quite enjoy it but it makes me hungry and I realize I will be VERY glad to hit the lunch stop.
Lunch is delicious and does not take overly long as I worry not only about chilling but about getting in before dark. I brought lights just in case, but I don't like to be on busier roads when the light has faded. Odd because night riding was one of my favorite things about brevets, but only when we were out on side, lightly traveled roads. Even during those years, I worried when there were lots of cars.
After lunch we get a good chuckle when a group of children come to the side of the road hailing and cheering us. One yells, "Do you like ketchup and mustard?" It takes me a moment before I realize it is a reference to our jackets. Jon is dressed in a red jacket and I have on my yellow jacket. I think how refreshing it is to actually see children outside in the yard doing something rather than inside the house watching television or playing video games. Perhaps I remember incorrectly, but I remember being outside most of the time when I was not being tortured in school. Not that I didn't like school or the other children or the teachers or reading. I adored reading. But I did not like the sitting required and being trapped inside, particularly on lovely days when the earth just seemed to abound with things to do and places to explore.
Sometimes the last miles of a century, particularly when one has been lazy, can be more a death march than a pleasure, but despite my being out of shape, it is not so today. I am tired, pleasantly tired, and I am as stiff, but I know I could go further, easier anymore than going faster for sure. We are in before dark with some minutes to spare. I would not chose a winter day as my favorite for riding, but I am glad that I did choose to ride and make use of the day and my body, to appreciate the starkness of the trees against the gray sky, to almost laugh out loud with excitement when a few rays of sun do happen to break through the ponderous gloom that has settled on the earth recently. Yeah, it was a good day. And I realize yet again that I am blessed.
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